


Home for the Holidays

by longleggedgit



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel is stuck at home with his rather eccentric family over winter break when all he wants is to be with Hikaru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to [](http://hollycomb.livejournal.com/profile)[**hollycomb**](http://hollycomb.livejournal.com/), first and foremost because she requested a holiday fic based on [this picture](http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a295/ilovelifeforms/SULUCHEKOVXMASFICPIC.jpg), and also because she brings me 90% of my Sulu/Chekov joy so it's high time I paid a little of that back! :) Of course, it's also a gift for everyone else on my flist, because 'tis the season! Thank you so much to [](http://reallycorking.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://reallycorking.livejournal.com/)**reallycorking** for being the multitalented fanartist-slash-beta-extraordinaire that she is. ♥ Hope everyone enjoys, and happy holidays!

Pavel wakes up the morning of his last final before winter break and begins to quietly panic, not because the exam is going to be challenging (it won't), but because of what comes after.

In the past, winter break has meant two weeks alone with his father, reading in the study and cooking elaborate meals and drinking wine until they both fall asleep in front of the TV. This year, he gets grandparents, aunts, and five younger cousins all trapped together in his father's humble little home for four days straight, along with a relatively new stepmother he has yet to warm up to. The prospect makes his stomach ache, and for the umpteenth time Pavel considers calling up his father and telling him he won't be able to get away from his schoolwork this year. But, like every other time, the thought of his father's devastated face forces Pavel to abandon the idea, groaning and rolling himself out of bed.

He treads lightly so as not to wake his roommate, whose last final was yesterday and who consequently spent most of last night drinking and didn't stumble back in until after four. Grabbing his shampoo and a towel, Pavel slips out the door and turns left toward the shower room. He's still blinking sleep out of his eyes when the next door down opens and Hikaru appears, his own towel and a neatly folded pile of clothes draped over his arm.

"Morning, Pavel," Hikaru says, and Pavel is instantly aware of the way half his hair is sandwiched flat from sleep, the other half an explosion of unruly curls.

"Good morning, Hikaru," Pavel says, trying to sound more awake than he is. And in truth, the mere idea of standing next to Hikaru in separate shower stalls does wake Pavel up a bit, in more ways than one.

Hikaru is the resident assistant of their dormitory wing, several years older than Pavel but still a student in the Academy's pilot program. He's a super senior, slated to graduate in May just like Pavel, and despite their vast age difference—Pavel will be the youngest graduate from the Academy since 2198, according to Professor Spock—Hikaru treats Pavel like an equal. They've only known each other for a year, but Pavel already thinks Hikaru might be the best thing to happen to him since enlisting in Starfleet. It actually frightens him a little, how much his happiness has started to revolve around how many times he sees Hikaru in a day, how he feels like he can never make another decision again without first asking Hikaru's opinion. He's not sure how Hikaru would react if he ever realized how much Pavel worships him.

"Got an early final?" Hikaru punches in the code to get into the shower room and then holds open the door for Pavel, and Pavel fights not to blush as he enters, ducking under Hikaru's arm. He wonders if Hikaru thinks Pavel is weird for not bringing his own clothes to the shower room, carefully picked out and neatly folded, ready for the day. That kind of planning is far too difficult for Pavel in the mornings; most days he's lucky if he remembers his towel.

"Not so early," Pavel says, setting his towel on a small shelf next to the nearest stall. He tries not to let his pleasure show on his face when Hikaru immediately selects the stall next to his. "But I take lots of time to get ready in the mornings. And I was having trouble sleeping."

"Why's that? Were people being loud?" Hikaru pauses in setting his clothes on his shelf and Pavel's heart almost breaks at the sight of him, frowning at Pavel with real concern, like he won't rest until he's personally threatened all their wingmates and Pavel is sleeping soundly again. "I can talk to them if you want."

Pavel shakes his head and pulls off his shirt. "No, no," he says. "People are fine, it is just me. I think I am worried about going home."

"Oh, right," Hikaru says. He begins to remove his shirt as well and Pavel looks away, pretending to be occupied with straightening out the shower curtain with his foot. "Your family thing. You're that worried about it?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

He refuses to take the risk of removing his pajama pants in front of Hikaru, especially with the added risk of it being morning, so Pavel steps into his stall and pulls the curtain closed before stripping down entirely, tossing his balled-up pants under the curtain to land on the floor next to his shirt. Hikaru, he can tell from watching his feet, finishes undressing outside and sets his pajama pants on the shelf before moving into his own stall. Pavel turns the water on immediately, glad when it's freezing cold.

"It's your house in San Francisco, right?" Hikaru asks, his own water turning on just after Pavel's. "Not back in Russia?"

"Yes, here, not Russia."

Pavel's father decided to move with Pavel to America after he got accepted early at the Academy, which Pavel pretended to be embarrassed about but in truth greatly appreciated. He loves his father, was terrified by the idea of leaving him, and knew schoolwork would make him too busy to return home very often. The fact that his acceptance into Starfleet came shortly after his mother's death only made the idea of leaving his father for a strange new environment even more terrifying. It wasn't an easy decision, though, for either of them; the Chekovs have lived in Russia since as far back as anyone can trace, hundreds and hundreds of years. Several of their family members, including his father's sisters and even Pavel's grandparents, refused to speak to them for over a year after.

"I'll be here, too," Hikaru says, like Pavel doesn't already know this. He remembers everything Hikaru tells him about his family; San Francisco natives since before Hikaru was born, two younger sisters but no brother, a father who teaches fencing and somehow makes a living at it, a mother who runs a small flower shop and loves to cook meals big enough for thirty people when it's just the five of them.

"I'm looking forward to it, but I know what you mean," Hikaru continues. "After the first few days or so, that feeling starts to set in." He laughs. "I'm probably going to end up holing up in my room messaging you every ten minutes or something."

"Yes, please do this," Pavel blurts, hoping Hikaru doesn't notice the tremor of excitement in his voice or the way he almost slips and has to steady himself against the stall. "I will message you, too, when my Aunt Zhenya starts asking why I have not graduated yet and when I am moving back to Russia to get a real job."

Hikaru laughs hard at this, and Pavel feels emboldened staring at his feet, watching the soap suds run down his legs. He can smell Hikaru's shampoo and it reminds him of the time Hikaru fell asleep in his room after pulling an all-nighter, when Pavel pretended to fall asleep too so he could lay his head down near Sulu's and breathe in the smell of him. After half an hour or so, Sulu woke up and left, but not before slipping a pillow under Pavel's head and pulling a blanket over him. Pavel barely slept the whole night because he couldn't stop thinking about it, his stomach twisting up in anxious happiness like a piece of licorice.

"Okay," Hikaru says. "We'll make a pact to keep each other sane over the break."

"Yes, and also, I will need your help explaining Christmas," Pavel says. "My family wants to experience it like it used to be in America, but I know nothing about this, and my stepmother does not celebrate. They expect me to have done research."

The water turns off in Hikaru's shower and Pavel becomes aware that he hasn't even washed his hair yet. He lathers up and rinses off quickly, so when he turns off his water and reaches out to grab his towel he's not that far behind Hikaru.

"Huh," Hikaru says, voice muffled. Pavel can tell he is drying his hair. "My parents don't really celebrate, either, but I think my mom has some cousins who do. I can find out for you."

Pavel steps out, towel wrapped tightly around his waist and hair still dripping, and beams at Sulu, who already has a fresh pair of pants on. He also has a rather adorable cowlick, which Pavel has to struggle not to reach out and pat down. "That would be very nice, Hikaru, thank you," he says.

"Sure." Hikaru seems a little flustered all of a sudden, and he tugs on his shirt and turns toward the door, making it clear that he intends to leave before Pavel. Over his shoulder, he says, "I've got to get ready for my test. If I don't see you before you leave, I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Pavel says "Okay" back and watches Hikaru leave, a warmth settling around him that has nothing to do with the steam from the showers. It's the first time he's felt excited for winter break since his father told him who would be visiting, and he latches onto that feeling, just hoping it can carry him through the next few days.

~

The first message comes the next morning, when Pavel arrives at his neighborhood transport station after a brief bullet train ride.

_Okay so I guess for Christmas you cut down a little tree. And also hang up socks?? Like on your fireplace?? I don't know_

Pavel laughs and keys back, _Socks? What do you mean? Explain more please?_

He's not sure if he should expect an instant reply or not—Hikaru still has one final left, if Pavel's memory serves, and Pavel knows he's a devoted studier—but his communicator buzzes again barely half a minute later.

_I don't know I messaged my mom's cousin and she says they have these red socks, like too big for actual feet, and they hang them on the fireplace except they don't actually have a fireplace so I guess they just hang them by the window, and then Santa Claus puts presents in them. Or coal?? I don't really get that part_

Pavel is laughing so hard tears are streaming down his cheeks when Aunt Zhenya appears from out of the crowd of travelers and plucks his communicator from his hands, ignoring his protests when he tries to grab it back.

"What, you're not happier to see your aunt than you are to see your communicator?" she demands in Russian, taking Pavel by the shoulders and kissing him on the forehead in a way that comes off as reprimanding more than affectionate. "I've told my Julia and Karina, I don't care how much you beg, you're not getting communicators until you're fifteen. Once kids get their hands on them, they never speak to their parents again."

"Hi, Aunt Zhenya. Hi Julia, Karina." Pavel nods and greets each of them in Russian, his heart already sinking a little in his chest. "I didn't know you'd be meeting me at the station?"

"Your father said you would be fine, but he can't fool me, I know how dangerous this city is."

"It's actually not that dangerous, Aunt Zhenya, that's more of an old misperception than—"

Aunt Zhenya waves an impatient hand at him and Pavel knows to shut up, giving Julia and Karina a sympathetic glance when their mother isn't looking. They're only seven and nine, but Pavel can already see the growing resentment in their eyes, and he certainly can't blame them for it. If he'd had Zhenya as a mother, he would have probably been trying to get accepted to Starfleet Academy at the age of five.

They walk the short distance from the station to Pavel's father's house, Zhenya monologuing the entire way about how inconvenient San Francisco transportation is, how ugly the neighborhood looks and how rude all the people are.

"We're home!" Zhenya announces as soon as she's thrown the front door open, and Pavel cringes at the cacophony of noises that greet them: babies crying, pots and pans crashing, his grandfather's voice yelling out in pain and a child's cackle of delight.

"Pasha!" When his father hurries around the corner, Pavel cheers considerably, dropping his bag so he can meet him in an embrace.

"Hi, Dad," Pavel says in English. Then his stepmother rounds the corner, smiling at Pavel in that cool manner she always has, and some of Pavel's cheer withers a little. "Hey, Carol."

"Nice to see you again, Pavel."

Before the silence between them can grow any thicker, Zhenya breezes past, complaining loudly, "Hasn't your wife learned to speak Russian yet, Osip?"

Pavel's father draws back, giving Pavel a look that clearly conveys _She's been like this all morning._ Ignoring her, he says in English, "Let's get your things to your room, yes?"

"Oh, Pavel!" Pavel's other aunt, Valeri, rounds the corner, balancing two babies on her hips, twin boys whose names Pavel has forgotten. She has another son too, Nikolai, but the last time Pavel saw him he was probably about the same age as the twins are now. "The boys sleep better in rooms with natural lighting, so we've set them up upstairs. You don't mind the basement, do you?"

She disappears before Pavel gets a chance to answer, and Pavel's father smiles apologetically. "Is that all right, Pasha?"

"Of course." Pavel forces a tight smile and toes off his shoes. "I will just bring my things down."

He's actually thankful for the relative silence and privacy of the basement when he gets down there, although it's colder than he remembers from his last visit, and it seems to have filled up with a lot more boxes. Probably Carol's. Flopping onto the couch wearily, Pavel pulls out his communicator and composes a new message.

_Hikaru, already I do not know if I can do this._

It takes him a few minutes to work up the courage to hit send—for some reason, this feels more dangerous, a little more exposed than their previous correspondences. But Hikaru's reply buzzes in not long after Pavel's.

 _You can do it,_ the message says. _And if things get too bad, you can always say you left the replicator on at the dorms and come hang out with my family instead. Can't promise they'll be any saner, though._

Face threatening to split with his grin, Pavel tucks the communicator back into his pocket and gathers up the courage to return to the chaos upstairs.

~

Dinner is just short of torturous, beginning when Aunt Zhenya "accidentally" insults Carol's lasagna in English, the first thing she's not said in Russian all night. Even the children, having grown up multilingual in school, have gotten the memo to try and stick to English while in San Francisco, but not Zhenya. By the time his grandfather has had too much vodka and begun snoring in his chair, Pavel's face is starting to hurt from trying to maintain his fake smile.

"Pavel," his grandmother says, either pretending not to notice her husband is unconscious or just not caring. "Tell us what we will be doing to celebrate Christmas this year?"

Pavel is taken off guard, not having expected his family to really want to put forth effort toward anything other than drinking and complaining. "Ahhhh," he manages, stalling for time as he racks his brain. "Well, tomorrow we will be getting . . . socks."

His grandmother just nods, like this makes perfect sense, but of course Aunt Zhenya is having none of it.

"Socks?" she repeats, changing the conversation to Russian with no consideration for Carol. "What do you mean, socks? What do socks have to do with Christmas?"

Pavel's cheeks are burning, but what Hikaru messaged him earlier is about all he knows about the holiday beyond a very general understanding of Santa Claus, so he goes with it. "Yes, socks," he says, stubbornly sticking to English. "You hang them by the window, for Santa, the king of Christmas, to put in coal."

"Coal?" Carol is the one to interrupt this time, a quizzical look on her face. "Are you sure you're getting that right?"

"Of course." He's not, but this is a struggle between him and Zhenya, and he's not going to lose. "Santa brings coal to put in your fireplace, and if you are very good you get—wood."

Even Zhenya can't seem to find something sharp to say to this. She just stares instead, probably trying to decide if she should laugh or go straight for mockery.

"Well," Aunt Valeri says at length, bouncing one of the boys on her knee. "I think it sounds fun. When are we getting socks?"

For a brief moment, Pavel feels an uncommon surge of affection toward Aunt Valeri, who is dull and rather simple but at least somewhat kind. Then the son she's bouncing leans over and throws up in Pavel's lap, and he takes it all back.

"I am going to change!" he announces, jumping up so hard his knees hit the table, and he rushes out of the room, feeling guilty for leaving his father with a mess to clean up but not so much so that it slows him down. Once he's downstairs he unzips his pack, pulling out a pair of clean (or at least, unsoiled) pajama pants and stripping off his jeans, only remembering just before he throws them in with the wash that his communicator is still in the pocket. He fishes it out and sees he's missed a message from Hikaru.

 _How you holding up?_ is all it says, but just knowing Hikaru was thinking about him brightens Pavel immensely.

 _Well, Hikaru there is vomit in my lap_ is all Pavel can think to say. He hits send but wonders immediately after if he should have tried for something a little less embarrassing; he doesn't want Hikaru to think of him only as awkward and adorable, like so many of the other students at the Academy tend to see him. They're all very friendly and seem to enjoy Pavel's company, but Pavel likes to think there's a chance Hikaru might actually see him as more than just a source of entertainment.

It takes a good twenty minutes or so until Hikaru responds this time, maybe having just finished dinner with his own family. Pavel is lying on the couch with his communicator clutched to his chest, too afraid to move until he's been reassured that Hikaru doesn't think he's an idiot. When it buzzes at last, Pavel almost drops the thing with how eager he is to get it open.

_Hahaha oh my god Pavel you have no idea how hard I am laughing right now. I'm sorry but wow_

If it were anyone else, Pavel thinks he might be offended. Instead, he happily drifts off to sleep on the couch, beaming and still clutching the communicator to his chest, comforted by the idea that no matter how much worse things get tomorrow, he'll at least have his means of escape in this.

~

It's six-thirty when Pavel is woken up by Nikolai and Julia, giggling quietly and pinching his nostrils shut.

"Nikolai! Julia!" Pavel sputters, swatting at them until they run away in hysterical laughter. "Stop it!"

"You were snoring!" Nikolai yells as they scamper up the stairs. Pavel glares in their wake, then spots the time on the wall clock and groans. It's almost impossible for him to fall back asleep once he's been woken up, especially in so rude a manner. Instead of trying, he gropes on the coffee table for his communicator and flips it open, hoping he won't wake Hikaru by messaging him so early.

_Today we are going to buy large socks for Santa. I hope no one actually brings us coal because I would not know what to do with it._

He puts down his communicator after sending and starts to rummage in his bag for some clothes, surprised when he hears a telltale vibration from the coffee table before he's even finished locating a pair of matching socks.

 _Have fun with that_ , Hikaru's reply says. _Why the hell are you up so early?_

Pavel considers telling him about Nikolai and Julia holding his nose, but decides the vomit was embarrassing enough. _It is impossible to sleep in this house right now. Hikaru why are you up so early??_

Hikaru takes longer to respond than before, and Pavel spends the entire time waiting with his butt on the floor and his back to the couch, fidgeting impatiently with his feet and hands.

 _My mom got me up at five to go to the grocery store and pick up ingredients she needs for her pork marinade,_ comes the message at last. Pavel can perfectly picture the look on Hikaru's face when he typed it out, the way must have been frowning, with that wonderful little crease he gets between his eyebrows when he's annoyed. _Okay, I'm not so sure I can do this either._

 _You have to survive Hikaru or I will have no one to keep me from going insane_ , Pavel quickly sends back, hoping Hikaru can't detect the pathetic truthfulness to his words.

"Pavel!" Zhenya's voice sounds from the top of the stairs and Pavel stuffs his communicator away, unwilling to risk her taking it again. "Just how late are you planning on sleeping in? We have to have breakfast and go get socks!"

"Coming!" Pavel pulls on a pair of jeans and hurries upstairs, praying that if he can just make it through a successful shopping trip, maybe he'll get to come home early and take a nap.

~

Pavel realizes he's forgotten his communicator about ten minutes into shopping, still stashed away under a pillow on the downstairs couch, and as a result the rest of the trip seems to drag on even more slowly than an afternoon with Zhenya normally would. They manage to find enough large socks for everyone, but when Pavel makes the mistake of mentioning a tree Zhenya insists they get one of those as well. She doesn't allow them to return home until Pavel has purchased a potted plant from a nearby nursery, and of course he has to carry it all the way back, too, a rather heavy thing nearly a meter and a half high with lots of twisty branches and weird, sharp little cones. The guy who sells it to them says it's from Andoria. Pavel doesn't really care where it's from, he just wants to get it back home so his arms can recover and he can talk to Hikaru again.

Once they do make it home, however, he doesn't even get the chance to go downstairs.

"Pavel, show us where to hang the socks!" Aunt Valeri implores. Pavel pastes his smile back on and does as he's told, helping them line the windowsills throughout the living room since fireplaces are generally considered extravagances in the city, something reserved for people living farther out or the super rich. They end up having to use one of the windows in the kitchen, too, because the living room doesn't have quite enough.

Twelve socks later, Nikolai grabs Pavel's sleeve. "How does King Santa get the coal in the socks?" he asks.

Acutely aware that all the adults are also listening for his answer, Pavel clears his throat. "Well," he says, "King Santa has a magic, ah, coat."

"Coat?" Nikolai repeats, frowning.

"Yes," Pavel says. "He puts it on and it makes him, you know—" he claps his palms together. "Flat. Little. He can sneak right through cracks."

Zhenya snorts and mutters something under her breath, but Nikolai seems satisfied with this response. Carol, Pavel notices, also appears oddly satisfied, smiling to herself as she adjusts the Andorian plant in the corner.

"And what do we do with the tree, Pavel?" she asks.

He's not sure why, but her question annoys Pavel a little bit, makes him feel defensive of his own made-up story.

"We eat around the tree," he answers, surprised at how quickly the stories are flowing now. "It is sort of like an offering, so King Santa knows he should come to your house."

"I don't want coal or wood, anyway," Julia says, because she is maybe the most spoiled of all Pavel's cousins. "Why are we putting out socks for things we don't want?"

"I've heard sometimes Santa brings new communicators to people who hang up their socks and eat under the tree nowadays," Carol says thoughtfully, surprising both Julia and Pavel. "Provided they behave themselves and are nice to their cousins."

Julia turns to Nikolai, wide-eyed, and then they both look to Pavel, probably wondering if he plans to tell Santa about this morning.

"Yes," Pavel says, fumbling a bit. "So. As long as we are very good for the rest of the day and night, and help our Uncle Osip to set the table and eat every bit of our dinner, who knows what we will find in the morning!"

"Wood, probably," Zhenya grumbles, but as the kids scamper off, shouting out if they can help Uncle Osip with any of the cleaning, even she seems mildly impressed.

Pavel is just starting to feel a little charitable toward Carol, who can at least improvise a good Christmas story, when she leans over and asks, "Pavel, have you taken into consideration what exactly they _are_ going to find in their socks tomorrow?"

"Oh, _chyort poberi_ ," Pavel groans, the first Russian he's lapsed into all day, and he quietly finds his shoes and slips out while the kids are distracted, not sure how he feels about the way Carol is smiling after him.

~

Pavel knows better than to actually buy the children communicators—that's one battle with Zhenya he doesn't even want to think about starting—but he finds what he hopes will be suitable enough sock-stuffers, mostly exotic candies from off-planet outlets and souvenirs that spin or sing or fly or do all at once. And then, because it seems a shame to leave the adults' socks empty, he picks up a few small samples of off-planet alcohols, secretly grabbing a cleverly disguised synthehol for his grandfather. He gets home just in time for dinner, utterly exhausted from spending more time shopping in one day than he has possibly done in the past four years, and notes, after stowing his bag full of treats in the front closet, that the table has been set ahead of time. He can tell by the haphazard arrangement of napkins and utensils that his cousins are responsible, and experiences no small amount of pride and satisfaction. Best of all, the little tree is in the center of the table, overseeing the entire festive spread.

"Pasha! I called, we were beginning to worry!" His father comes rushing over to him, wringing his hands the way he always does when he's nervous.

"Sorry, Dad, I was—"

"Picking up an assignment he forgot at the Academy, just like I said, Osip," Carol interjects. "I told you, the boy has your work ethic. Now will you sit down so we can eat?"

"That's what I've been asking for the past hour," Zhenya says, leading the way into the dining room and seating herself first. Pavel was about to smile at Carol gratefully, but the sharpness in Zhenya's tone distracts him. "When I was a girl, if we were late for dinner, we just didn't eat."

Pavel scowls, but at his father's pleading glance he keeps his mouth shut. The rest of the family file in and take their respective seats, and Pavel puts his napkin in his lap, just now realizing how hungry he is.

"It smells great," he says, but before they can even begin to pass around dishes, Zhenya starts in again.

"I don't see why he thinks forgetting an assignment is even an excuse," she sniffs, refusing to meet Pavel's eye but speaking loudly enough that everyone can hear. "How serious can he be about studying, if this is how highly he regards his schoolwork?"

"Zhenya," Pavel's father says, warning. "Now is the time to eat."

He begins carving the main course, an entire roast duck, and Carol passes the first of the side dishes, but the damage has been done. The entire room is silent and tense, and Pavel can't stop glaring at his plate, getting less and less hungry by the second. He can feel his entire face burning red and he hates it, hates the way Zhenya always gets to him like this, belittling him in front of everybody, intent on ruining his night.

Once she's been served her portion of duck and taken a swig of wine, Zhenya sets down her glass and sighs deeply, as if the she were the one who just spent an entire day running frantic errands for a herd of ungrateful relatives. "Children are just so selfish," she says. "Here my poor brother is still mourning the passing of his wife, and his son insists they prance off to America, uprooting everyone, not a thought for anyone else, and of course his father allows it all—"

"Zhenya!" Pavel's father says, pounding a fist on the table, but Pavel isn't going to let him compromise a way out of this one, not this time.

"What do you know about it?" Pavel snarls, standing up and tossing his napkin to the floor. He's been angry at Zhenya before, even wondered if he hated her as a young, hot-blooded child, but never, _never_ has he felt like this, like every hair on his body is standing up on end, like his blood has turned to ice and his hands have curled into permanent fists. "Where were you when she died, where were any of you when my father and I needed you?"

"Pavel," his father says, gently. "It's all right."

"It's not all right!" And it isn't, it never has been, they have _no idea._ "You do not know what it means to be a family, you would just as soon never have spoken to us again if my father were not such a wonderful man! He pretended none of it ever happened, the cruel words, not returning calls, refusing to visit, and for what? For more cruel words about my school and our city, for abuse of our hospitality, for a bunch of spoiled children who will behave only when they have been bribed!"

The children are starting to look scared—even Zhenya is starting to look scared—but Pavel doesn't care, he's done caring about what these people think of him. "For your information," he says, straightening up to his full height, "I did not forget any work at the Academy, because I am not that kind of a student. I was out buying stupid, useless presents for those stupid socks so we could all pretend to be a normal family that likes each other for two more days. Which I now see was wasted effort."

Pavel's not even sure if he's speaking in English or Russian anymore, he's so mad, but of course it doesn't matter. In any language, he's gotten the point across. He storms off in the direction of the basement but stops at the top of the stairs, turning around to get one more look at the stunned faces of his family around the table.

"Also, I know nothing about Christmas, and there is no such thing as Santa!"

He slams the door shut behind him, then locks it for good measure, and waits for the sense of accomplishment to sink in.

Instead, Pavel just starts to feel sick. He staggers down the stairs and throws himself to the couch, hating Zhenya and Valeri and his cousins and his grandparents and even his father, just a little, for letting it come to this. Upstairs, he can hear the muffled sounds of a few chairs being pushed out and some footsteps on the carpet, but that's about it, no loud talking or arguments. And beneath his head, he suddenly hears a fervent chime accompanied by loud buzzing, and he reaches under the pillow to find his communicator, an incoming call from Hikaru flashing on the screen.

"Hello?" Pavel croaks, answering before he can stop to think how bad an idea it is.

"Pavel! Jesus, where have you been? I've been messaging and calling all day!" Hikaru sounds stricken, a little like he sounded the time Pavel got caught in the middle of a bar fight that had nothing to do with him and ended up with a split lip. Hikaru punched two guys that night, Pavel remembers, even though the fight had nothing to do with him, either, and then he'd forced Pavel to go to the resident nurse and get checked out as soon as they made it out of there, completely ignoring his own black eye and gash to the forehead.

"I was—shopping," Pavel manages, after a long pause. Hikaru doesn't seem to know how to respond to this, because silence falls on the other end, and then suddenly it's all pouring out, Pavel is curling up in a ball on the couch and sobbing into the receiver and wishing more than anything Hikaru were right there with him, because he could really use someone to finish his fights for him right now.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, shhh," Hikaru says, sounding perhaps a little confused but no less genuine, shushing Pavel until he's gotten his sobs under control enough to speak again.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Pavel gasps, wiping his eyes and then his nose with his sleeve, too spent now to even be embarrassed. "I would explain, but—just—it has been a not so good day, Hikaru."

"Yeah," Hikaru says, "I kind of figured. I'm sorry, Pavel."

"Distract me?" Pavel begs. He wants to think about anything other than the mess he's left upstairs right now, and listening to Hikaru seems like the perfect alternative, because no one else has the ability to warm his heart so fast, to make all other people in the world seem insignificant.

He can tell just by the way Hikaru clears his throat and starts rustling around that Pavel's request has taken him off-guard, but Pavel doesn't mind, he has all the time in the world for Hikaru to figure something out.

"Uh," Hikaru says eventually. "How do you want me to distract you?"

"I don't care," Pavel says, stretching out on the couch with a shuddering sigh. "Talk to me. Tell me anything."

"Pavel—" Hikaru starts, then stops when Pavel blows his nose.

"Sorry," Pavel says when he's done, "what?"

"Did you, um. Have you actually. Checked your messages?"

"What?" Pavel pulls his communicator away from his face for a minute to glance at the screen. _Sixteen unread messages_ , it says up in the top left corner. "Hikaru! There are so many!"

"You don't have to read them," Hikaru says quickly. "Actually, it's probably best if you didn't, maybe you should just, you know, delete them all—"

Pavel starts to laugh. "Why would I do that! Hold on, Hikaru, I am going to read them right now."

"No, Pavel, I really, um," Hikaru says, but Pavel shushes him.

"Just hold on Hikaru, I will tell you when I am done!"

He taps open his inbox and starts at the beginning, the first unread message having been sent shortly after Pavel left this morning.

_Okay, I'll try to survive for your sake, anyway. Good luck shopping._

The next is from only half an hour later:

_Wow so my dad and sister have already had one screaming fight and it's only 8 a.m. Almost forgot how much I missed that_

Pavel laughs and scrolls down. There's a much longer period of time between this set and the next, which resume again a few hours later.

_Mom forgot to tell me to pick something up at the grocery store. Am being sent back. Am also being assigned task of chaperone for my littlest sister, who wants to go to shopping. Maybe we'll see you in some sock department somewhere._

_God this is awful. Akane's in middle school so all she cares about is clothes. Don't even know how many stores we've been to already. Hope your shopping experience is going better._

_Okay I admit I'm starting to get a little worried. We've been out here—oh god it's been three and a half hours already hasn't it—and you're still silent. They haven't kidnapped you and taken you back to Russia, have they?_

"Poor Hikaru!" Pavel says regretfully. "I feel so bad for not remembering my communicator!"

Hikaru just makes a pained sound in the back of his throat, so Pavel keeps reading.

_Okay home finally. Time to help mom with the cooking. I kind of wish we were back at the dorms. Pavel, you're okay right??_

_Haha seriously, message me back sometime okay?_

_Oh god my dad and sister got in another screaming fight while he was cutting vegetables and he cut off part of his thumb. Going to urgent care I guess. Please let me know you're not also in a hospital somewhere, yeah?_

"Oh, Hikaru, really? His thumb? That's awful!"

"Yeah," Hikaru mutters, the tone of his voice rather suggesting this wasn't nearly the worst part of his day.

_Stuck in a waiting room for a while. He'll be fine, don't worry. Pavel you're not avoiding me are you?_

It makes Pavel's chest hurt that Hikaru could ever think Pavel would avoid him. "Poor Hikaru," he says again. Hikaru doesn't say anything.

_God I really wish you were here right now. Well, no, I don't wish you were in urgent care really because it sucks, I guess I just wish I was somewhere else with you because I feel like it's actually physically impossible to be crabby in your presence._

_Are you there?_

_God I'm really starting to sound pathetic aren't I. Haha. You should delete all these right away. I think I'll call and tell you to do so._

_I knew I'd do this. I'm always like this when I don't talk to you for like, a day. Remember that time you went to that astrophysics conference and I couldn't even hold off on messaging you for longer than like two hours?_

"I thought you only messaged me because you didn't understand our assignment for linguistics," Pavel says, trusting Hikaru will know exactly which message he's looking at.

"I lied," Hikaru says, miserably. "I was already done with that assignment."

Pavel's heart is starting to beat very fast, but he can't stop reading to ask for further details now.

_Fuck, Pavel. I can't believe how often you do this to me. You know I'm constantly thinking about you, right?_

"Hikaru," Pavel says, but this time he's not expecting any sort of response.

_I don't even look forward to vacations anymore because it's just more time I'm going to have to spend away from you. Haha wow this is getting really pathetic. Okay, while I'm on a roll, here are all the other ways in which you have turned me into a mess: on days we don't have lunch hour off together I don't even eat anymore, I pretend to fall asleep in your room just so I can stay longer, I usually wait until I hear your door open in the mornings to go to the shower, I can't fall asleep some nights because I'm so wrapped up in thinking about you that it makes me crazy._

_Shit. I really hope you don't read any of these, wow. And you'd better be okay, Pavel. I'm gonna, um, try calling you now._

Pavel closes his messages but keeps staring at the screen, completely overwhelmed. He can hear Hikaru swallow loudly on the other end.

"Done?" he asks, sounding utterly wrecked.

"Hikaru," Pavel says. "That night in my bed, you were only pretending to sleep?"

"I know, Pavel, I'm sorry, it was completely—"

" _Hikaru._ " Pavel can't help laughing a little, maybe delirious with everything that's happened today, but for the moment only delirious with happiness. "I, also, was pretending to sleep."

The other end goes silent again, and then Pavel hears a fumbling noise, like Hikaru is shifting his communicator to the other side. "Why would you . . . ?"

"For the same reason, Hikaru!" he tries to keep his voice steady but it's nearly impossible when he feels so happy it's all bubbling out of him, when every nerve in his body is so alive. "I think about you always, I hate to take a shower without you, I hate to leave the dorms even for a day, I hate when you have overnight pilot lessons—"

"Fuck, Pavel." Hikaru's voice is gravelly now, like he hasn't slept in days. "I've felt so fucking guilty, you're so much younger than me—"

"Not so much younger, I am almost seventeen!"

"—But I want—oh, fuck, I want to touch you all the time, it's all I can think about, sometimes it's so goddamned hard just to stand next to you."

"Yes, yes, me too," Pavel agrees, and he can't help it, he's half-hard just talking like this, just hearing Hikaru finally say the things he's been too afraid to hope for for too long. He whimpers and shifts on the couch, sliding his free hand down to palm himself through his jeans, imagining it's one of Hikaru's strong hands instead. "Please, tell me what else you want to do," he says.

"Oh God," Hikaru says, perhaps because of Pavel's request or perhaps because he's begun to glean that Pavel is fully intending to get off on the sound of his voice. "Everything, I don't even know where to start."

"Start when we get back to the dorms," Pavel urges. "In your room, when we are alone, what will you do to me?"

" _Shit._ " Hikaru's breathing is starting to sound labored, and Pavel wonders if it's because he's doing the same thing Pavel is right now, unzipping his fly and reaching into his underwear, drawing out his dick to stroke himself with a desperation he hasn't felt in a long time. "I—I don't know, Pavel—"

"I would kiss you," Pavel says, realizing he's going to have to take the lead, at least for now, maybe even a bit excited for it. "I have wanted to kiss you for so long, to finally do it would be so nice, and then I would take your clothes off—"

"Jesus," Hikaru says, laughing a little breathlessly, "not one for foreplay, are you?"

"We have been having foreplay all year, Hikaru, I want to really touch you," Pavel moans, and that makes Hikaru moan, too. Pavel's already so close, he can't believe how much it hurts, being this hard, how much he wishes he really were with Hikaru right now so they could make this all come true.

"Okay," Hikaru says. "Okay, then what, what do you want?"

"I want you to take my clothes off, too, and to take me to your bed, and to touch me everywhere, with your hands and with your mouth."

"God, Pavel!" He sounds shocked, but Hikaru is practically panting into the phone now, leaving no doubt in Pavel's mind that they are doing the exact same thing. "I think about sucking your cock every night, I want it so bad—"

"Yes." Pavel's hissing now, his thighs are tense and he's just about thrusting off the couch into his hand. "I want you to suck my cock and then fuck me, please, Hikaru."

Hikaru makes a choking sound then, his breath hitching, and Pavel thinks he knows why. He's close, too, and it hurts so badly now that all he wants is to come, he _needs_ it.

"Hikaru," he begs, "please say you will fuck me, please, I want it so much, please—"

" _Yes_ , Jesus, of course I'll fuck you, Pavel, _fuck._ "

Hearing the words straight from Hikaru's mouth, as good as a promise as far as Pavel is concerned, is all it takes. Pavel gasps and comes in his hand, feeling utterly spent the moment it's over, like this orgasm has been building for an entire year, like now that it's done he could probably sleep for one.

"Pavel," Hikaru says, softly. Pavel wishes he could roll over and kiss Hikaru so much right now—it almost seems as if he could—but he has to settle for rolling over and grabbing a tissue instead, dabbing himself clean and then tossing it into the nearby garbage.

"I miss you so much, Hikaru," Pavel says, sleepily.

"I know. I miss you, too."

"Will you stay here with me?" Pavel asks, knowing it's a little absurd, but he just wants to fall asleep listening to the sound of Hikaru's breathing, like he will really get to do as soon as they're back in the dorms again, where they both belong.

"Yeah," Hikaru says, "okay."

"I am going to fall asleep now, Hikaru."

Hikaru laughs. "I know," he says. "Good night, Pavel."

And then he's quiet, and Pavel drifts off faster than he's done in months, lulled by the weight of his body and the feel of the communicator next to his head, rising and falling with his breaths, almost like it's really Hikaru pressed up behind him.

~

His communicator has closed and slid in between the couch cushions when Pavel wakes up the next morning, but once he fishes it out he sees there's a new message from Hikaru and quickly opens it.

 _Today will be better, I promise,_ it reads. _I miss you._

Pavel is just about to compose a reply when, to his surprise, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. He quickly stuffs the communicator back in between the cushions of the couch, as if he were about to be caught doing something forbidden. He's relieved when it's his father who turns the corner, smiling sadly, but still can't help but feel like he's being interrupted.

"The door was locked," Pavel says, a little bit questioning and a little bit accusatory.

"I picked it," his father replies, simply. He eases himself down to take a seat next to Pavel, who scoots over on the couch to give him more room. "I am sorry, Pasha. I know this is not how you would have chosen to spend your break from school."

"It's fine," Pavel says, but his heart isn't in it and he knows his father can always tell.

"No, it's not." His father sighs. "We see our family so little now, even though it would be so easy to visit. It is just different, living here instead of Russia."

"I know, Dad." For the first time in a while, Pavel is stricken with a stab of guilt for the sacrifices his father made to move here with him. Even if their family is crazy, they're still close, and Pavel knows his father misses them every day.

"They are very proud of you, you know," his father says, startling Pavel out of his reflective moment.

"What?" Pavel says, laughing a little.

His father smiles. "They are very proud," he repeats. "Even Zhenya. You should hear how often they ask after you, how much they brag. They cannot believe you have accomplished so much when you are so young." Leaning over to bump a shoulder against Pavel's, he adds, "I cannot believe it myself. You are very much your mother's son."

Pavel's eyes are starting to burn, and he rubs at them swiftly, grateful that he can count on his father to pretend not to have seen. "Well, I had to do well, so they would see why we moved here. And know we were right to do so." He grins. "You know I cannot let Zhenya ever be right."

"Yes, Pasha," his father says, chuckling and giving Pavel a scratch on the head. "This I know." He stands up from the couch with a sudden air of purpose and heads toward the stairs, stopping just before he disappears from sight.

"I am going to have breakfast. Whenever you are ready, you can come up again, I think."

Pavel nods and waits until he hears the door click shut before reaching for his bag, reasoning that if he's going to face his family again he's at least going to do it in something other than yesterday's wrinkled clothes. He pulls on a fresh pair of pants and a sweater, pats his hair down into what he hopes is some semblance of presentability, and takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Before he can take the first step, however, the door opens, revealing a stonefaced Zhenya. She doesn't wait for Pavel to react to her appearance, just thunders down the stairs, stopping when they're almost face-to-face and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Good morning," she says, in Russian.

"Good morning," Pavel replies, out of habit.

Zhenya shifts on her feet, in a manner that would come off as a bit self-conscious, if Pavel didn't know any better. "Your behavior last night was unacceptable, Pavel," she says.

A little twinge of anger strikes Pavel, but he manages to keep it down. "I know," he says, because even if every word he spoke last night was true, she's right. "I'm sorry."

"Well." Zhenya sniffs, uncrosses and recrosses her arms, and looks away. "I may have been a bit rash in my words, as well."

Coming from Zhenya, it's as good as prostrating herself on the floor before him. Pavel has to fight not to laugh. "We will have to try and be on better behavior," he says, smiling. "For my father's sake, at least."

"At least." Zhenya nods, then, and Pavel knows the matter is as good as closed—it's probably the most amicable exchange they've had it years. She starts toward the stairs but pauses on her way up, saying over her shoulder, "And thank you, Pavel. The children enjoyed their presents, and we will enjoy ours."

Pavel frowns, wondering how the children _found_ their presents. "The presents were in their socks?" he asks.

"Yes," Zhenya says, "of course."

"And—they didn't mind that I told them there is no such thing as Santa?" He still feels a little guilty about this.

Zhenya snorts. "Children don't care where presents come from, as long as they get presents," she says. "They will be fine."

Pavel lets her leave then, still puzzling over the mystery of how the gifts he bought went from the closet he stuffed them in to the socks on the windowsills as he finally makes his way upstairs. When he gets to the kitchen, he's surprised to find only Carol seated at the table, reading from one of the old-fashioned newspapers she still insists on subscribing to.

"Where is everyone?" Pavel asks.

"Your father is in the shower," she says, lowering the paper. "Your grandparents are sleeping, and everyone else is outside. It snowed last night."

"Oh." Pavel hovers awkwardly until Carol finally looks him over, her mouth quirked in a half-smile.

"Orange juice?" she suggests, gesturing toward a carton on the table. "Breakfast?"

"Orange juice would be nice." Pavel grabs himself a glass, pours, and sits down.

Carol goes back to reading her paper. Pavel takes a sip of his juice, fidgets, takes another sip, and only manages to stay silent for about twelve seconds before he suddenly blurts, "Did you put the presents I bought in the socks?"

Again, Carol lowers her paper, and again she's wearing that half-smile. "It seemed a shame to let all that hard work go to waste. I know when I was little, I always looked forward to stockings on Christmas morning more than anything else."

Pavel almost knocks over his glass. "You celebrated Christmas?"

"Every year until my parents died."

"But—then you knew—" Pavel can feel his cheeks burning. "Why didn't you say anything? All the things I made up—"

"Christmas stopped being a religious practice hundreds of years ago, Pavel," she says, adjusting her glasses thoughtfully. "If anything like the Christmas tradition even exists anymore, the particulars aren't what count. It's about selflessness and goodwill more than anything else." Her half-smile becomes a full one when she concludes, "I think you embodied that perfectly."

Pavel can only stare at first, his orange juice completely forgotten. "Oh," he says at last, saved from elaborating further when a knock sounds on the front door.

"Better get that," Carol says, going back to her paper, and Pavel is very happy for the excuse to go. Just because he's starting to see Carol in a different light doesn't make the whole situation any less humiliating.

"Coming, coming," Pavel says, jogging a little when the person at the door knocks again, and he's prepared for a package delivery or even one of his cousins with a snowball, but he's not prepared at all for Hikaru standing there on the front step, his hair dusted with snow and his face a little red, maybe from the cold, maybe from something else.

"Uh," Hikaru says, when Pavel doesn't immediately do or say anything. "Merry Christmas? Sorry, I didn't bring you anything."

"Hikaru!" Pavel snaps out of his shock and launches himself at Hikaru, wrapping his arms around his neck, throwing him so off balance that he slips and falls back against the brick entryway.

Hikaru laughs and hugs Pavel close, burying his face against his neck. "Sorry about showing up unannounced, but I figured you wouldn't mind a little distraction."

Pavel shakes his head violently—no, he doesn't mind, this is the best morning of his life, how could he mind anything?—and tries not to sob in relief. "Hikaru, don't ever leave," he moans.

"My family might not like it if I spent the rest of my break at your house," Hikaru says, chuckling and starting to rub Pavel's back softly. "But you can come meet them too, if you want."

Pavel nods—of course that's fine, as long as he's with Hikaru he can do anything, he might even invite Zhenya and the rest of the family to extend their visit. "Okay. Yes, okay."

The snow is still falling and Pavel's socks are starting to get wet, so he steps back and takes Hikaru's hands in his, meeting his eyes very seriously. "Hikaru," he says, swallowing down a lump in his throat. "If you hadn't called, if I had not talked to you last night—"

He stops speaking abruptly when a snowball appears from out of nowhere, smacking Hikaru soundly in the side of the face. Hikaru wipes at the wet trail of snow on his cheek, a little dazed, and Pavel whirls around, spotting Nikolai, Julia and Karina crouched behind a snowbank.

"Defend yourselves!" Nikolai shouts, and he throws another snowball, this one missing Pavel by inches.

"Charming cousins you've got," Hikaru says.

Pavel snorts. "It makes sense when you meet their parents." Right as he says it, almost like a summons, Zhenya and Valeri appear at the end of the street, returning from what was probably a peaceful stroll in the morning snow, pushing a carriage. It's too perfect an opportunity to pass up. Pavel bumps the door open and hops inside, toeing his shoes on and grabbing his coat from the rack.

"Hey, is that an Andorian Pine?" Hikaru asks, tilting his head and squinting in the direction of the dining room.

"It is a Christmas tree," Pavel says, shutting the door before Hikaru can get distracted.

"I swear, it looked just like—"

"Hikaru!" Pavel interrupts, scooping up a ball of wet snow and plopping it into Hikaru's palms, then bending down to scoop up another for himself. "Now is not the time for plants."

Hikaru lifts an eyebrow, but he obediently starts to pack the snow in his hands more firmly, smiling at Pavel in such a way that he wonders how it doesn't make all the snow melt.

"Come," Pavel says, barely quelling the urge to kiss Hikaru full on the lips, spying cousins or no. "I want to introduce you to Zhenya."

_end_


End file.
